Our Days Are Numbered
by ladypink11
Summary: Jenna Coleman once had a dream. Matt Smith is stuck in dreams. Jenna struggles to battle her demons and Matt struggles draw the truth from her. Their problem is their days are numbered. Aren't dreams just for children? A Menna/Smoleman fic.
1. Chapter 1

The shrill sound of her alarm blared through her thoughts, alarming her briefly before she let out a soft sigh and reached over to turn it off stretching her worn muscles.

It's not like she'd actually been asleep though, she hasn't slept properly for weeks. Is it weeks? It could be months, she doesn't remember, time blurs away from her these days. It's hard enough to manage getting through one day and she prefers not to thinking about the past.

Thinking hurts.

Her alarm must have gone off for a total of around 5 seconds but it was enough to wake him, to wake Jake laid beside her. He groaned and turned over and she found herself praying to God he would fall back to sleep. Did she even believe in God? She didn't know, probably not, if there was a God then why she would be living like this is beyond her. Or maybe there was a God but he just didn't care, she didn't blame him, she wasn't sure she cared either.

"Jenna turn that fucking thing off" His voice is angry, bitter, he mustn't have had a good night.

She doesn't tell him that she turned it off before he even had said anything, she doesn't tell him that she has to have this alarm because of work which is technically a lie because she was awake anyway like always.

Instead she tells him she loves him, which is a lie too.

Of course, silence is her reply. She can't say she cares she just wants to leave.

She uses the downstairs bathroom to apply her make-up for feel of bothering him once more. It strikes her this house has too many bathrooms and then it strikes her she hates this house. Then she remembers it's not even hers, it's Jake's and she's lucky to live here, lucky to have him. Somehow it slips her mind that she has a flat that she loves and that she has enough money to live where she chooses anyway.

It's nearly 7am when she finally leaves the house not before swallowing two paracetamol which she washes down with a coffee. She's going to be late. She closes her eyes briefly and breathes in deeply, bringing two thumbs to rub at her temples attempting weakly to soften the headache throbbing there. They are in the last part of filming the Doctor Who Christmas Special and it would be no exaggeration to say this is what she lives for, it's all that's keeping her going. She loves acting, she loves pretending not to be herself for once, for a minute she's not Jenna-Louise Coleman, the mess, for a minute she can just be Clara. She knows that's not all it is though, she's had many amazing roles before where she could be anything. She loved playing Jasmine on Emmerdale; she loved playing the dark side Jasmine let her explore, a voice in her head tells her it wasn't that hard to explore her own dark side and she shakes her head once, trying to concentrate on the road. She's had many amazing roles but this role is different because Clara has the Doctor and Jenna, well Jenna has Matt.

She warned herself not to get too attached, she knows he could never feel this way and she tells herself it time and time again because there is no way she can let herself admit to her feelings for him. It would be embarrassing to say the least and it was not like she had to worry for much longer was it. He was leaving, he was leaving her and leaving the show and she honestly can't bear to think about it because she knows that he's is the only thing that has kept her from a melt-down this past months, the only think keeping her together.

She'd never tell him that though.

The second she walks through the doors of the studio her envelopes her in a hug wrapping his arms around her tiny frame as closes her eyes and lays her head on his chest, taking comfort in the steady beat of his heart. He smells like he always does, of coffee, of vanilla, of soap. Of Matt. It hurts to think she'll forget this smell, it will fade away and she will forget it. He has promised they'll stay in touch of course and they have photo-shoots to do for the special but there will be no more filming, no more endless days spent chatting mindlessly playing stupid games to pass the time and drawing silly pictures of their co-stars and production team. No more time spent giggling over nothing, no more in-jokes, no more Starbucks rushes when their energy depletes them, pouring syrup into their coffees and thinking of the most inventive names to tell the Starbucks staff to put on their cups whilst trying to avoid the media.

No more Matt.

Not that he'll remember, he'll move on, he'll be a superstar in Hollywood and she knows it's selfish to even want to keep him here. Doctor Who is popular, Jenna knows that, but Matt is destined for more, she knows he needs to move on but she resents the fact he is leaving her. He probably doesn't even realise she cares that much. She's glad.

Matt notices immediately she isn't looking herself, if he's honest she hasn't looked herself for a while and straight away he just wants to hold her. When her arms are wrapped around her he feels a little guilty though, she doesn't need his hugs, she has a boyfriend. He is about to pull away but she rests her head on his chest and he sees a soft smile begin to form at the corners of her lips and he leans down to kiss the top of her head. They remain like that for a while, both seeking comfort in the other's embrace until someone from the production team coughs gently to remind them they have work to do and they both pull away embarrassed, a soft blush rises to Jenna's cheeks and she suddenly feels ashamed for holding onto Matt for so long, he probably felt so uncomfortable a voice is ringing in her head.

Matt looks down at the floor, he shouldn't have held her like that, she has a boyfriend and she's not his to hold – the press would have a field day. Even in the haste of which they're rushed to set to film he can't help but wish for the day she is his to hold forever and he never has to let go, if that day would ever come, regrettably he realises it can't. Jenna is everything but he'd never put her through him dumping his feelings on her, especially not now while she's with Jake. He stills plans to talk to her though he needs to know why she's looking so down, he needs to know if he can help.

He is watching her, quite intently and he is glad he is in character because it draws less attention to what he believes to be his clearly obvious feelings. He admires the way that in a second she is in character, one moment she is Jenna and is she is looking down and a little dejected then she is Clara and she is pulling him along, her quiet stature suddenly become bright and breezy.

He can still see it in her eyes though, there is a pain in her eyes and it hurts him, though it shouldn't.

When they have finished he grabs her arm.

"Jenna, come to mine? Come for a drink?"

She is ready to reject him, like she has done the last two times he invited her over and the last time he asked her to come out.

There is nothing she wants more than to go to Matt's but she can't she knows she can't and that hurts more than it should.

She opens her mouth, an excuse ready on her lips but she falls short.

He is still in costume and still wearing his wig.

It's slipped though and she can see his real hair, short and soft at the side of his head.

She wants nothing more than to just run her hands over his hair and she doesn't know why but she is nodding and his face splits into a grin, a smile so genuine it takes her breath away.

It goes against her common sense, screaming at her that Jake is expecting her and he will be angry and although she buries it away she knows what happens when Jake gets angry. It goes against everything her head is saying but for some reason she just can't say no to Matt, not this time.

It might be something to do with the fact their days are numbered.


	2. Chapter 2

They say that when you're filled with conflicting emotion the stronger one would always bias your decision.

They say that regardless of your inhibitions, regardless of your fear, your pain, if you really truly want something you will never be able to make enough excuses to talk yourself out of it.

Jenna-Louise Coleman thoroughly hoped they were wrong.

Because, she shouldn't be following Matt Smith to his apartment and she shouldn't be texting her boyfriend, Jake, to tell him she had to work late.

Yet even as she listed in her head the lengthy number of reasons this was an absolutely preposterously bad idea she was staring at her feet. Her feet, they were still moving. One foot in front of the other, steadily, like they had all they confidence in the world in their destination. She glared at her feet as if they were committing treason, but of course it wasn't her feet moving of their own accord. She was going to Matt's because even though it scared her more than she could ever imagine, she wanted to.

"Jenna…"

His trailing voice came from behind her and she stopped comically where she was standing and turned swiftly to confront him as to why he was no longer walking with her.

He was leaning against the door to his apartment, a quizzical look etched on his face. She realised she had been so wrapped up in her thoughts she had completely failed to notice that they had reached their destination and she bit her lip as her cheeks flushed pink, like they always did.

His expression changed in a split second, they way it always seemed to do when she spoke to him. His bemused expression had split into a grin so suddenly it almost took her by surprise and as he clicked his key into the lock and opened the door his eyebrows raised almost comically.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

She blushed, dropping her eyes to the floor and the corner of his mouth turned up as made his way in and she heard him laughing at his threw his coat down.

"Thinking of your lover then?"

She didn't even bother trying to deny it.

"Jenna c'mon just one drink?"

She shook her head but he could see in her eyes her resistance was crumbling.

"What's to say no to eh? One teeny tiny little glass of my finest wine, which by the way is very fine, c'mon I'll be so sad if you don't have just a glass."

He looked down at her, eyes wide, attempting to look cute and his stomach flipped when she lifted her head to meet his eyes and she let the ghost of a smile grace her lips as he saw her resistance fall.

It was different when they were in character. When they were in character and she was Clara she was forced to look at him, to flirt with him – it was her job. Sometimes people struggled to see the difference between the Doctor and Matt, they were so similar, but that was Matt, he leaked himself into every role he played. For Matt acting was a way of expressing himself, for etching his personality into his roles. For Jenna acting was a way of hiding herself in roles, for disguising herself behind other people and for pretending she was someone different. That's why it meant so much when she looked at him, like she had just then.

Because that wasn't Clara, it wasn't Stephen Moffat or Mark Gatiss choosing what she said and when she looked at him and she wasn't looking at him because she was following a script. It was Jenna, looking at him because she wanted to look at him and meeting his eyes because maybe, just maybe she felt it too.

That's when she looked him in the eyes his heart would begin thundering, breathing would suddenly become an issue as whatever he was thinking of, whatever thoughts were swimming in the vacuum of his mind just vanished and she was the only thing that mattered.

Then she would shyly break contact and he would remember that she had a boyfriend. Jake.

He despised Jake. He didn't really know why, the rational part of him told him that it was because he had the girl Matt could never have but something told him this was different. It may have been because he knew Jenna less then, it may have been because he was friends with him but Matt had never felt this hatred towards Richard. Sure he had been jealous and when Richard and Jenna's relationship had run their course he had been forced to suppress his childish glee to comfort both injured parties, sure he had always hoped for Richard and Jenna to break up but he had never hated Richard, hell he liked him. Yet he felt the utmost revulsion for Jake Scott and this the notion of his hate terrified him, he had never ever felt this way before.

He briefly scanned his memories for a reason for the loathing but nothing would excuse him from his worry. When he had met Jake he had always been appallingly polite and kept together yet there was a way he held Jenna so possessively, a way he would look at her when she said something unexpectedly or laughed at one of his jokes a look of disgust and fury that was hidden carefully behind a mask of charm would flicker across his face and that made Matt's skin crawl. Matt knew enough about hiding behind masks.

So did Jenna.

As she, somewhat reluctantly, let the first drops of alcohol slip down her throat it struck her that she had probably made some ridiculous form of a mistake and she should stop.

But she was dangerously out of control with Matt. When she was with him her walls broke down and she was vulnerable. That terrified her.

She had drunk far too much. That was a fact she was aware of. She was also aware of the fact she no longer cared and she was also aware that

she had not felt so care-free since she was with Richard. She missed Richard; at least she thought she did. He had always been kind, he had always been gentle and she had loved him but the spark that had fuelled their relationship had diminished and when they had sat down for dinner on that night neither of them had had the drive any more that was required to keep them together. Their break-up had been so cool, so collected, so amicable that it was a shock to everyone, much least to Jenna, when she had all but thrown herself into a new relationship after only months of ending a long term relationship with Richard. They were wrong. Her relationship with Richard had ended months before they had been forced to admit it and her relationship with Jake had flourished off a need to be wanted, she needed once more for a man to look at her darkly and forcefully with animalistic lust. After months, years, of civility she had wanted Jake. That's why she blames herself now.

That's why it's all her fault. She lifts the glass to her lips once more and loses herself in pointless conversation.

He is not as nearly as drunk as she is, although he cannot say he truly feels in control. He has nearly matched her in glasses but it is clear she's not a big drinker. He probably should have kept an eye on just how regularly she had been topping up her glass but selfishly he had been content with hearing her laughter, her drunken undisguised smiles which indisputably would cause him to break out into a beam of his own mid sentence. He had been so content with indulging in the velvet of her touches that he had had selfishly ignored her tipsiness spiralling out of control. It was hard for him to concentrate on even this thought because she had nestled herself into his arms and he was quite unable to focus on anything but the warmth of her tiny body curled around his, the softness of her hair tucked beneath his chin, the comfort of her head resting on his chest and electric shivers that racked his body when her leg entwined around his.

"Jenna?" Even in her drunken state she must have been able to pick up on the apprehension in her voice because she moved off of him and the space which opened up between them and the chill of the room without her body to warm his made him instantly regret the second he opened his mouth.

She would have normally blushed furiously but instead she simply let out a soft giggle. He could tell her had embarrassed her though because even drunk her cheeks were tinged pink and she had turned her body ever so slightly away from him.

He touched her arm tentatively and when she didn't pull away he repeated his question but this time it wasn't a question at all.

"Jenna."

"Matt." She whispered and he suddenly realised the gap between them had closed as quickly as it had opened although he doesn't know which one of them moved closer. Abruptly she is inches from him and his heart is beating so fast he thinks she may be able to hear it. He wants so badly to capture her lips with his and the temptation threatens to overwhelm, but he remembers is taken and he hesitates. His hesitation, the flicker of doubt it so brief the bubble that had entranced them had been punctured although neither of them moves the distance between them opens up once more like a canyon filled with all of the words they failed to speak. He can see them; he can see the questions filling the air between them. The gap between their lips is a cavity of broken promises which seep from him and he refuses to kiss her right now and then in the morning let her blame it on the alcohol, it wouldn't be right like that.

So he pulls away.

He must see her dejected look as he pulls his body painstakingly away from her because suddenly he is pulling her into his arms just like she lay before and it may be his soothing touch caressing her or the alcohol coursing through her veins but she can no longer hold up her façade and she lets her tears fall from her closed eyes and onto his shirt.

He lets her cry, silently without probing and he although doesn't realise but it's exactly what she needs.

That could be the reason she finally speaks. It could be that or it could be the alcohol clouding her judgement but for some reason when her props her up, a hand placed solidly on either shoulder, and looks deep into her eyes to ask her properly what's wrong she opens her mouth and slowly, and shakily, she tells him.

It could've have been that.

But it couldn't have been because their days are numbered.


	3. Chapter 3

When he woke up she was gone.

When he had first awoken drifting in a land between sleep and consciousness he had felt so peaceful, so invigorated that for a second he hadn't even remembered what she had told him last night. Then the realization had dawned on him and he, instead of sitting bolt upright and rushing out of bed, had suddenly felt as if he weighed the world and he curled up in a ball a sickening anger gnawing in the pit of his stomach.

He knew then she would have left and it didn't take much investigation to confirm his suspicions. The living room where they had talked last night was empty and the only evidence she had been here was the pair of empty glasses on the coffee table and two wine bottles, one still half full, beside them.

For a second he briefly entertained the idea her departure had been movie-esque, that before leaving she had planted a kiss on his forehead and left a perfumed note on his pillow. He knows Jenna though, more than she'll ever know, she knows how she thinks and he knows she would have rushed out of his apartment the very second she had awoken, that's if she had slept at all.

He didn't know what he had expected. He guesses the stupid optimistic part of him had hoped she'd stayed with him and he'd have cooked her breakfast and made her coffee and they would have driven to work together, ignoring what the production team thought. Ignoring what anyone thought. Last night was still a blur to him but he will never forget the way she had opened up to him and told him the truth, he will never forget the way her voice shook and broke in a way so, so different from the confident Jenna who met him every day on set. He will never forget the shaky words that had left her and the bullet hole each one had punched in his heart. He will never ever forget he look on the face as she had spoken, he had only seen that look once before and it was when he was a young boy and he had come home from his Grandmas to see his mother sat on the sofa, face blank and staring but her eyes full of pain that could never be expressed in words just staring at his father's bags packed in the hallway. It was the look of someone who has given up all hope.

His phone rung sharply, puncturing his thoughts and in his haste to reach it he bashed his leg on the table. Cursing loudly he grabbed his phone and for a second his eyes didn't adjust to the harsh glare.

Stephen.

He let the call ring to voicemail and rubbed his bruised leg in annoyance.

He was annoyed at Stephen for ringing and not being Jenna, he was childishly annoyed at the table for getting in his way and punctuated his annoyance by kicking it from him ignoring the pain that flared up in his toe. He was annoyed at himself.

Because when Jenna had told him he hadn't known what to say, so horror struck was he by her words. She had opened herself up to him and he had just sat there, dumbfounded until words were no longer an option and he had mustered her in his arms in an attempt to draw comfort although he was not fully sure who for. She had been still, so still he thought she may have drifted off and that's why he had finally succumbed to sleep. He had expected in the morning for her to be there and they would talk about it and he would stroke her hair and whisper to her it would all be better and somehow in the morning he would just know what to do because that's what the morning was for right, a clean day?

He knows now she had never slept at all.

When she reaches his house she is numb. All her worries, all her angst, all her turmoil had eaten away at her as she had driven here and now she is numb.

She knows her fate and knows her punishment. This is why she build walls.

This is why she blames herself for letting her walls get knocked down last night. Walls that had starting building up the second she had slipped from his grasp in the early hours of this morning. Walls that after just a thirty minute drive were suddenly stronger than ever before.

Suddenly she is terrified and that startles her. Her head had been resting on the steering wheel but as fear and adrenaline course through her veins she shoots into a rigid sitting position and stares out of the car window into the soft light dawn was bringing.

She knows it wasn't just the alcohol though, somewhere she knows that it was Matt who drew the truth out of her when his soft gaze had fixed on her face, when he had touched her hand with the slightest of touches but it had felt like an electric current had passed through them. Even though she had been drunk she still remembered the tension between them when she whispered his name, the air between their lips had bristled with someone she hadn't quite understood and she remembered how inside she had been begging for him to kiss her but at the same time was terrified that he would. Even now she still remembers the stinging rejection as he had pulled away and it is now she feels the embarrassment of last night, how desperate she must have looked to him cuddling him and then crying and then telling him. She shouldn't have told him.

Why had she told him?

She can let herself get over the pathetic teenage girl with a crush act. She can just about forget crying into her wine in front of him and with time she will erase the feeling of almost kissing him from her memory.

But telling him.

She had changed everything.

It wasn't until she was sober that she had realised her mistake, her drunken and clouded judgment had actually taken ease in sharing her secret and drunk she hadn't had anything left to say to make excuses and had just been content from gathering comfort in his arms. She realises now that it was only the alcohol clouding her sense that had made her happy to just lay with him because as the hours had passed and she had sobered up the horror of their situation had grown on her. That's why she had slipped out of his arms and found rest on the hard surface of his cold kitchen tiles. She had been freezing and uncomfortable but she welcomed the pain it brought, her shivering had distracted her from remembering the huge mistake she had made. No longer could she pretend it wasn't real and no longer could she use work and Matt to hide from her problems, now they would never end, now there would be no release because the one person who's opinion she cared about would no longer be able to see her as Jenna and would always be clouded with disgust and pity when he looked at her.

For her the horror would never end.

Suddenly she was very glad that the Christmas Special was growing closer and closer.

She opens the door and Jake is stood there waiting, he must have heard her car.

He doesn't just look disgusted, he radiates it and some instinct in her tells her to make excuses. She doesn't though. Even in her broken state she won't give him the satisfaction of knowing she is afraid.

He is silent and that fills her with terror but even as he moves closer and she can feel his breath on her neck she is thinking of Matt.

She is thinking of how she would endure this torture for the carefree days she spent with him on set, when she could pretend none of this happened because he simply hadn't and would never know.

Now she's lost that as well because as usual she can't keep her mouth shut.

She doesn't stop thinking of him even when Jake throws her to the floor, even when he rips off her dress and punctuates his anger with a slap which twists her head back.

She is still thinking of Matt of when she hears Jake's car leave and she is still thinking of him as she crawls to her bag and texts Stephen explaining her absence at work today.

He is the last thought on her mind before she succumbs to the darkness enveloping her.

Suddenly it no longer mattered their days were numbered.


	4. Chapter 4

When Matt had arrived at work that day he had immediately looked for Jenna, his turmoil must have shown on his face because straight away a crew member had informed him of her absence, said she had come down with some sort of 24 hour sickness bug and not to worry.

He had immediately prepared to leave but Stephen had grabbed him by the arm and told him there was no way in hell he was leaving since they were all there for him anyway and if he'd answered his bloody phone this morning they wouldn't all be here. He had quite suddenly felt guilty for the eight further calls he had refused to answer and had agreed to stay.

He had known he could have walked out of the studio there an then but as he had stood there, pretending to ignore the glares emitted from Stephen to his right, something had clicked in his head. The crew member, with guilt he remembered he couldn't even remember who it had been, so wrapped up in his thoughts had he been, had told him Jenna had a 24 hour sickness bug. The information would have only come directly from Jenna and Jenna was always thoughtful, always clever. If she said a 24 hour bug instead of simply just a bug it was a message, maybe directed to him, maybe not, that she would be back tomorrow and to not worry. That's why he had decided to stay, he had stayed for her.

At some point in the day, as they were going through plans for his regeneration scene it had occurred to him that even if he had been able to leave then he couldn't actually have visited her. It shocked and shook him when he had realised that he actually didn't even know her address. They had been working together for nearly a year yet he had never visited her apartment once and he'd never even had the decency to inquire about her lodgings.

By the time that day had ended he had rung her 18 times and after the 16th time he had rung her it had rung straight to voicemail. He had convinced himself this was because her battery had run out and not that she had simply grown sick of his constant calls and turned her phone off. His sleep that night had been broken and he had awoken once in the early hours knotted in sweat, blankets and tears feeling nauseated as he recollected on her anguish.

It had struck him as he lay awake, fitful and crying that he had no idea of how to help her. He wanted so badly to find Jake and hit him again and again and make him feel every second of pain that he had ever, ever inflicted on Jenna but even in his blind fury he knew if he did that he would lose her. Somewhere buried deep in his anger he knows that the reason she trusts him, the reason she can open up to him is because he is the opposite of the man Jake is. It is renowned that Matt is non-violent, that he's a mamma's boy and still goes home for Sunday dinner, everyone knows it. If he stood up to Jake all guns blazing he would be stooping to a level that causes Jenna unprecedented amounts of pain and that is why he is lost.

He cannot match Jake's anger, as much as he would like to. He hopes he doesn't have to involve the authorities because Jenna, underneath her mask, is so shy, so fragile and he doesn't want to cause her the embarrassment of the media.

Yet he knows this cannot continue and it hurts him to set a decision in stone but he will be the cause of Jenna's mortification and face losing her forever than let be treated in this way for any longer, for once he will not be selfish. If he has to he will let her go, even if it shatters him.

She has an advantage over him, and that is that after she had awoken, a dull pulsing ache in her head and a chill spreading through her body, after she had showered quickly letting the steaming water wash his scent from her, not caring that her body was protesting, her skin red and sore, after she had crawled into her bed throwing an amount of painkillers, she cannot remember the amount she took, and resting her head on the soft pillows at last she had the rest of the day to think.

She knows he will try and talk to her again, she knows that even though he must find her repulsive to look at now he is a good person, better than good, he's a great person and he will feel pitiful for her, embarrassed and pitiful and in his sympathy he will try and help her, try and talk to her. He will want to say the right things and he will go on about police and justice and help and will probably smile patronisingly and tell her it's ok there's people out there who will understand and then pass her one to someone else like a parcel. Thinking he's done the right thing. Like her parents had when she had plucked up the courage to tell them she couldn't cope anymore, like her school friends had when she had finally admitted she wasn't eating properly. An embarrassed smile, a patronising tone and a pat on the arm and the all-important words, 'don't worry you're not alone in this there's people who can help'. It makes her laugh even now, although her laughter is laced with bitterness and cynicism, because that's exactly what she is, alone. That was when she had promised herself to keep her problems to herself and that's why she resented herself so much for breaking her promises when she had told Matt. She was no longer affected when other people broke promises to her, broken promises had become almost a homely comfort to her now, don't worry they had told her, we promise to stick by you they had said and then the invites for coffee and parties had stopped coming and excuses had been made and after the third weekend she had spent shopping alone she had coldly realised that promises were for children. But when you break a promise to yourself it still hurts like the first time your parents bought you a book on keeping happy instead of just talking to you and the first time your mum offers you a tissue and an embarrassed smile instead of just holding you when you burst into tears in the middle of Marks & Spencers.

She knows she is being unfair and somewhere she knows that Matt is different and that she can trust him not to break a promise. Maybe this is why she chooses to blame him, all along she has been telling herself it is her fault, just because she can't stand the sympathy from others. Now she blames Matt for letting her get close enough to him to tell him everything. She knows she is taking out all her anger at Jake on Matt and a voice in her head is goading her and reminding her that she is taking her anger out on Matt now because she knows in a heartbeat she will forgive him. She pushes that thought away content now to let anger take her, because, fuck, she is sick of feeling emotionless and she is sick of taking everything in her stride, pretending that she can cope. Anger is horrible and reckless and uncontrolled, but at anger is an emotion and she hasn't felt emotion when alone for a long time. It is with disgust that she welcomes the change.

That is why she starts setting her alarm 30 minutes earlier. The 30 minutes she arrives at the studio before Matt gives her enough time to find hair and make-up before he's even entered the door. She can then dawdle around in costume until she is called and if the costume department are suspicious at her sudden interest in different stitches best they don't show it. It is only when she is called to action that she cannot hide anymore and she is forced to look at Matt and let him look at her. She hates herself for it but she is a perfectionist and she cannot sacrifice the Doctor and Clara's bond for her own pathetic self, it wouldn't be fair. So she smiles and she puts on an act and strokes his cheek and looks into his eyes and tries to ignore the leaping of her stomach every time he looks her way. She revels in the fact she can show him how she feels just a little but hide it under Clara, she can let just a little bit of her sorrow out and that helps.

Then the director calls it a day and she switches emotion off and immediately heads home before he can even say goodnight to her.

Home, can she call it home?

Home, the house, brings the same misery each night. The house brings Jake and the same pain each night, although some days are worse than others. She thinks that once that filming has ended it will be better because then emotion can be discarded completely and she will no longer have to fight to control the feelings that threaten to spill out whenever she is around Matt and the resolve that threatens to crumble. This is because she will no longer be around Matt.

The curse she once dreaded has now become a blessing and this bothers her.

There is only three more weeks to go.

After two weeks and 6 days of this she thinks he is beginning to accept her ignorance and although she should be pleased she is devastated that he no longer attempts to make conversation with her. Once filming has ended he lets her scurry off and no longer tries to catch her to talk, he stopped that after 2 weeks exactly. Maybe the constant rejection was too much, or maybe he just finally felt he had had attempted conversation enough times to redeem for their last talk and now he has tried to help her and she rejected his help he is in the clear, no longer in her debt.

That's why after two weeks and 6 days she slackens, she doesn't rush off to the car park as quick as usual, safe in the knowledge he no longer cares about her and wouldn't try and and catch to her make her speak.

This is her crucial mistake.

As she is walking to the car park she hears him call her name.  
She carries on walking and she hears him call louder evidently believing she cannot hear him over the roar of the traffic. He continues to call and it is now clear she's ignoring him but he doesn't stop shouting her name, over and over again.

"Jenna." He shouts.

"Jenna. Jenna. Jenna."

Time is travelling so slowly, the seconds just crawling by as she opens her car door and sits down on the worn leather seat.

The door is still wide open and he is still shouting her name, she wants to scream at him to stop, that he is attracting attention but she says nothing, not trusting herself to speak.

He can't realise that with every pained cry she is crumbling and she wants nothing more than to run to him and hold him.

Then she remembers the last time she let herself open to him and with a crack she shuts her car door and drives out of the car park not once looking back.

She never sees the tears that streak his face nor does she hear him try and apologise, his words falling in on themselves and cracking, although she cannot and wouldn't know yet what he is apologising for.

He had told himself he would wait til after filming had finished.

He has been selfish even though he promised himself he wouldn't be.

He has waited until the last chance to involve himself but he was going to wait entirely until filming was completely over but he is selfish.

He cannot leave her tomorrow, knowing that filming has ending, and leave like the past few weeks have been for him.

The day she returned from her 'sickness bug' he knew something had changed. When he arrived at the studio she wasn't waiting for him like she did every day of filming. He was informed she was already getting ready and she didn't leave the costume department until the very last minute possible. Then as filming finished she would have gone, so quickly sometimes he would miss her.

The only times he would see the tiny spark of the old Jenna would be during filming. Sometimes, just sometimes she would almost forget for a second and he would see her eyes almost light up as ran together and just sometimes when she looked into his eyes he would be reminded of the time, barely weeks ago when she came to his apartment and looked him in the eyes and his whole world stopped. Sometimes she looks like she remembers too.

That's why he has made his decision.

Once it became clear she didn't want to speak to him he realised things between her and Jake had not gotten better, if he was honest he knew they never would but he was content in kidding himself that there was a way out of this that didn't end in pain for Jenna. He made a decision to wait until filming was over then he would do it, this was as much for the fans as it was for Jenna, he didn't want to ruin their final hour with him.

He probably would have stuck to his decision if it had not been for the blankness on her face as she drove out of the car park.

He had called to her, so many times, and she just hadn't heard him.

Well, she had heard him but she had chosen not to listen.

She couldn't even bring herself to look at him and that twisted his stomach in sickness.

That's why he was being selfish now.

He couldn't bear for their final day together, their final day of filming, of being the Doctor and Clara, to be one of ignorance as they both tried to overlook the rift between them.

He couldn't bear to see her look at him blankly anymore and he craved for any emotional response from her.

She will hate him for sure.

She will probably shoat and scream and cry and he hates himself for doing this, for being so selfish but he just can't leave it like this.

He would honestly rather she hates him passionately then ignores him coldly and this logic is what forces him up the stairs and into the door.

He smells the stale air and for a second he thinks he might be sick.

A man walks over, he has a kindly face and Matt is momentarily reassured he is doing the right thing.

"Sir can I help you?" The man rubs his bristly whiskers with the back of his hand and peers at him.

He wonders what a state he must look like, he has not yet bothered to take off his make-up from filming so wrapped up was he in his destination and his eyes are red from tears, his hair mussed from the many times he worriedly pulled at it as he drove here.

Then he doesn't care.

"Yes, you can help me."

He stops, pauses, takes a shaky breath.

He doesn't know what to say, even though he has imagined this moment 100 times lying in bed as yet another sleepless night takes him. It has only been 2 weeks and 6 days since Jenna revealed the darkest depths of her life yet it feels like years.

He suddenly feels incredulous, incredulous that he hasn't done this sooner. Incredulous that he hasn't forced her to speak to him, incredulous that he hasn't spoken himself to anyone yet.

This time when he takes a deep breath it is not shaky and it is not afraid.

"I would like to report abuse. Of my friend by her boyfriend."

The man looks for a moment stunned then in a second the kindly, overweight, slightly unkempt man is gone and as professionalism takes over the seemingly shabby stubble suddenly becomes intimidating. The paunch around his middle and his rounded face suddenly make him seem broad, and threatening.

Yet Matt knows he has done the right thing.  
He is ushered into a room where he is asked question after question and he can only think of Jenna and how long she has coped with this and he is abruptly in awe of her strength and saddened by it all at once.

"Mr Smith, to clarify, can you please tell me whether you perceive this to be mental, physical or sexual abuse."

Matt cannot hide the shudder that racks his body.

"All three."

He thinks in this moment that this will be the last of her peace, if it can be called peace and that her life will change.

He hopes one day she will forgive him.

He knows their days are numbered.


	5. Chapter 5

She knew something was wrong

the second she pulled into the drive.

She could see the silhouette of two men standing inside Jake's house and she could see him perched uncomfortably on a chair, he never sat on chairs when relaxing it was always the sofa he would sprawl upon.

At first it had annoyed her, that. It had annoyed her that when she wanted them to talk or even to sit down and eat he had plucked up his plate and eaten silently on the sofa, leaving her an empty plate to tidy up and empty silences to contemplate. Then as time passed she had begun to no longer care and eventually she cherished the time he would spend eating in silence on the sofa, at least then his attention was elsewhere.

She switches the engine off but makes no move to get out of the car. She swallows roughly, trying to ignore the shaking of her hands. She knows what this means but she doesn't, even for a second, feel hopeful. She learned a long time ago that shattered hope hurts a lot more than no hope at all, it has been a long time since she had expectations.

She had always taken pride in the fact she was a good judge of character. Through high school she had befriended the right sort of girls, fun but sensible and she had swerved anyone she had seen to be two-faced. In her early acting career she had always been able to tell whether an audition had been successful enough, she could read in the body language of her auditioners. She had known immediately that Richard had been a good guy for her but she had also known, somewhere, that all though she loved him, thoroughly, she would never be in love with him.

She always taken pride in the fact she was a good judge of character but that had ended 4 months and 12 days ago when she had made the biggest misjudgement of her life, the day she went home with Jake McOwen.

She had been officially separated from Richard for 2 weeks and 2 days and although their relationship had ended a long time ago she had quite suddenly realised just how alone she was. At least with Richard there had been company, routine almost boring company, but none the less, company. For two weeks she had spent her evenings alone and so had that evening texted Matt to see if he had wanted to go out for a drink. He hadn't. She knows that isn't quite true but her mind hazes over the details, whether Matt really had been busy or not hardly matters now anyway. Feeling lonely and although she wouldn't admit it, a little rejected, she had gone for a drink alone. Her first mistake.

She had been in the bar just over an hour when he had approached her and she remembers being immediately attracted to his eyes, how blue they were. He had sat down at the bar with her and bought her a drink and she had been taken aback at how sweet he had been. Within an hour of chatting she had agreed to go to his for more drinks, something she would never have done normally but when he had asked her she thought about the last time a man asked her to go home with her, a well-presented, handsome, sweet man who clearly wanted her. She thought about the last time Richard had looked at her with the lust of the man sat next to her and when she had realised she couldn't remember she had agreed to go home with him. Her second mistake.

Their first night together had been perfect, Jenna recalls, and if she was honest the weeks following it also. The press had gone a little crazy about her 'rebound man' but she had been happy and so hadn't cared. It was about a month after they had been dating it had all started to fall apart.

One night she had been watching television, Breaking Bad, and was halfway through an episode when he had breezed in, plucked the remote from her hand and changed the channel. Immediately she had challenged him and he reminded her curtly, 'his house, his rules'. This shouldn't have riled her so much but she was only here because he had invited her here anyway, she could go home and watch TV and she was happy to remind him of that. It strikes her now that she should have seen it coming. They had argued, furiously, and she had reached for her bag, perched on the coffee table, threatening to leave. She had barely touched the strap when the back of his hand had made contact with hers, knocking her bag clean off the sofa where it had rolled twice and settled by the fireplace. It had shocked her more than hurt if she was honest but shaken and appalled she had sat subdued on the sofa and watched his program. That night, as she had laid in bed, she had convinced herself it was a one-off thing and laid in bed she had told herself it was her fault, she'd provoked him. Eventually she believed herself.

Over the next couple of months his behaviour had changed, he became possessive, controlling. He would refuse to let her out of the house in an outfit he deemed too revealing and would check her phone regularly. Yet even when she was forced to take a second outfit to work in bag, even when she was made to make excuses to friends about why she no longer went out, even when she was forced to cover the bruises in make-up and lie to the make-up team at Doctor who about her weight loss, she couldn't admit she had a problem. She was ashamed to admit to even her closest friends, even to Matt, the truth, ashamed they would look down at her, pity her. She knew if the truth came out everything would change and people would stop treating her like a person. She would be something to gossip about, a conversation subject, her personal life aired for everyone to laugh at, to scoff at, to shake their heads and tut at. Even in her darkest days when she would lay in bed, hoping and praying for the pain that swelled inside of her to fade, for the monsters tore at her mind to subside, for the pitiful truth of her life to burn away, she wouldn't even consider asking for help.

She sits, very still, in her car. She doesn't know whether to leave or not and an erratic part of her mind is screaming for her to run away. She doesn't. Very slowly and very calmly she turns off the engine and exits the car. Shutting her door with a shaking hand she walks up to the front door.

As she reaches the door she briefly contemplates walking in and pretending she doesn't know what's going on. A bitter laugh escapes her lips as she imagines herself striding in, throwing her coat over the bannister, chirping 'honey I'm home'. She pushes the door open and suddenly the reality of the situation dawns on her suddenly she is no longer calm and suddenly it is all horribly real and she has to grab the bannister because she is no longer confident that her legs can hold her body.

She is floating almost, a million thoughts are pulsing through her, twisting and turning through mind and pushing her downwards like a weight over her eyes she is being crushed and now is she is no longer floating but drowning. She is aware she is clawing at her throat, the need for oxygen is so strong yet she cannot seem to be able to draw breath. She can hear voices but their volume changes constantly. She hears a male voice tell her she is having a panic attack and to take deep breaths. Readily she sucks in oxygen and she can feel herself climbing, she is about to break the surface and she opens her eyes and she sees him. He is leaning, almost casually, in the doorway and although his posture is relaxed and casual she can see how hard his hands are gripping the door frame, his knuckles are white. His face is stone but his eyes bore into hers, if he is perplexed by her state he doesn't show it, just stares at her daring her to carry on with this. She tries to tear her eyes from his, tries to break the surface of the water but it drags her down, into the murky waters and the noises fade and the light, the bright light, so bright it's hurting her eyes is fading and she relishes the peace. She welcomes the darkness when it takes her.

* * *

Matt sits at home. Staring at a television programme that he isn't listening to. He is thinking only of Jenna and his hand twitches by his phone. He is desperate to call her and his desperation threatens to engulf him. He picks his phone up, punches in her number, etched in his memory, and presses call. It rings once. Twice. Then he ends the call and throws his phone across the room where it rolls under the sofa and settles. He suddenly feels exhausted and 3 weeks of sleepless nights unexpectedly crush him. He is so surprisingly tired he does not fight the sleep, simply curls himself around a pillow and welcomes the darkness that takes him.

* * *

"Jenna? Jenna?"

She hears her name being said and it's getting louder and for a second she thinks it's her mum, waking her up for school on a Monday morning. Then she remembers she doesn't go to school anymore.

It's a female voice though and this reassures Jenna, female means not Jake. She opens her eyes and light bursts in her head and the light brings pain and the light makes her remember. She tries to sink into the darkness again but they won't let her and the woman, who isn't her mum, is talking again but the words muddle in Jenna's head and it strikes her the room is so white, she has never seen anything so white. The woman, who isn't her mum, is asking her if there's someone they'd like her to call and it dawns upon she is in a hospital and she is confused as to why they're asking her, shouldn't they be asking the ill person who they want to call? Then her thoughts are interrupted as she hears another female voice say 'Matt' and she is angry at the voice because she doesn't want Matt here, not when she's like this and she tries to tell them that. Tries to tell the female voice off but the words die in her throat as she realises the voice was her own.

Then darkness blankets her again.

* * *

The sound of his phone ringing startles him from his sleep and he groans, leaving the dream world behind as reality seeps into him.

His phone is still ringing and he realises it might be Jenna.

Then he is scrabbling for his phone under the sofa and it's still ringing. Finally his fingers clasp around it and he brings it to his ear.

"Hello?" He is momentarily embarrassed at how out of breath he sounds but his embarrassment dies as he hears the caller's words, processes what they mean. Then he is running, running for his keys, running to his car and driving. He calculates it will take him around 30 minutes. He thinks that's far too long.

* * *

This time when she awakes, it's different. The first time she had been forced awake by people she didn't know but this time it is natural and soft and she immediately registers she doesn't feel quite as alone this time, something is different. She is awake but she hasn't yet opened her eyes, afraid of the view. Someone is holding her hand and their palm is sweaty and they're gripping her too tightly but something tells her it's not Jake, he would never let himself get sweaty, he was always so collected and so she doesn't pull away. Something about their grip comforts her, they're holding her hand like they can't let go and in this moment she doesn't feel quite so alone. She knows now she is in hospital and she knows now it is her in hospital. As she recalls the last time she awoke the details come to her in flurry and she remembers her disorientation and how she thought she was in school again and she remembers the woman, with the soft voice, like her Mum's, and she remembers asking for Matt.

Matt.

Her eyes snap open.

He is there.

Like she'd asked for he is there.

He is sitting beside her, gripping her hand in his and his jaw is rigid. She stares at him and she can see the muscles in his arms are taunt. She looks at his face and takes in the tear marks that streak his cheeks.

She wants to say something to put him at ease but the words will not come.

"Jenna?" He starts and she can hear the worry in the thickness of his voice.

"Jenna. I'm so so sorry."

She is puzzled, sorry? Sorry for what?

Then it hits her and the air is knocked out of her.

Flashes of colour hit her as the face of a man comes into focus. She remembers his voice as he carries her to an ambulance, firm yet comforting. She remembers him telling her not to worry and that it was over. Telling her his name.

It was Harry Blake, he had told her.

Officer Harry Blake.

It was Matt. Matt had told the police. Matt.

She had known that really but she had buried it away. Unable to comprehend that the one person she could trust had thrown it back in her face.

She stares at him and watches as he crumbles.

"Jenna" His voice splinters halfway through her name.

"Jenna, say something."

But she doesn't. She just stares at him and amongst all the anger and the fear that bubbles beneath her mask she realises she is lacking one emotion, hate.

As much she tries she cannot muster hate for Matt. She hates Jake. Numbly and blankly she hates Jake, yet she feels no emotion towards him. Matt, she is angry at, fury and fear and confusion tear at her but still she cannot hate him.

That's why she asks him to leave.

Not because of what he did. Not because he broke her confidence and her trust. Not because everything was about to fall apart.

Because even though he did all of this she cannot bring herself to hate him and that scares her more than Jake ever could.

Because their days are numbered.


	6. Chapter 6

**Happy Boxing Day and I hope you all had a lovely Christmas - if you celebrate it. This chapter isn't too long and so hopefully I will have the next one up by the end of the day or the day after. Please keep reviewing guys, so I know whether I'm doing anything right, or not! What kind of direction would you like this to eventually end up and ultimately shall the ending be happy or sad? Thanks for all my lovely review so far! Happy holidays!**

* * *

It's a strange thing, hope.

From an outside point of view you would have said things were looking up for Jenna Coleman. Her abusive boyfriend was now firmly behind bars and although he had not yet been sentenced what the copious amounts of lawyers and solicitors who breezed into her life and through her bank accounts had assured her is that he will be put away for a considerable number of years and then never, ever be allowed near her again. She was once again home, and living back in her small but cherished flat. Her job, on Doctor Who was going swimmingly, in fact she had only one day left of filming and then she would be done for before she started on season 8 with Peter Capaldi in the New Year. Yes, from an outside point of view you would say things were looking up for Jenna Coleman. However, from an outside point of view, you would never have known they were down at all.

That, actually had pleasantly surprised her. In the midst of her angst she had been startled at the efficiency of which her agent had handled the press. She and Jake had, 'mutually agreed to put their relationship on hold for the sake of her busy career'. The only people who actually knew the truth were Matt, of course, her agent and Stephen. Matt had told Stephen, in the end. She couldn't blame him, how else was he going to explain to Stephen the reason she couldn't work for two weeks, she knew he wasn't going to be happy about extending the deadline, especially as they were so close to the finish line and so cowardly she had let Matt sort it out for her.

It hurt though, lying to her mum. When she had received a text, from her mum, a sympathetic one – offering her condolences over the breakdown of her relationship even the smallest amount of sympathy had hurt. She'd never had the greatest relationship with her mum, if she was honest, but there is something about motherly comfort that brings out the child in all of us and so lying to her mum had been hard when all she wanted to do was let her mother smother her in sympathy and security and tell her it wasn't her fault even though it obviously, blatantly was. She knew her hopes were superficial anyway. Her mother would clam up and become awkward and really do the opposite of helping by trying too hard. The only person who ever managed to comfort her was Matt. When she had told Matt he had said nothing. No patronising words of comfort, no promises for change, no awkward hugs. He had just held her and hadn't let go and whether he'd known it or not that was exactly what she had needed. For someone, just once, to hold her like they absolutely needed her to be themselves. It felt nice to be needed, even if it had just been for show.

Hope is a strange thing. It's what keeps us going through the darkest times. It's what reminds us that even when the sun forgets to rise there's always the potential of tomorrow. It's life's fool-proof way of helping us get through. Yet Jenna had found an even more fool-proof way of getting through, having no hope at all.

She had left the hospital after only 1 night, she had discharged herself, much to the disapproval of the staff. She had immediately driven to Jake's, packed all of her things and driven to her flat where she had thrown her bags in a corner and called her agent to call a lawyer. She had felt marginally bad, dumping her legal troubles on her agent and had briefly considered doing it herself before she had realised, with disgust, how much she hated every aspect of the legal system and had resolved to passing on the duties, guilty conscience or not. The next few days, she had been on auto-pilot. She had tidied her flat, unpacked all of her things and sorted all of the press with her agent. She had then called Matt, she had been putting it off for days but she knew she had to.

That's when auto-pilot had switched off and the plane that was her resolve had come tumbling and crashing down.

Their conversation had lasted a mere 9 minutes and 27 seconds but it had felt like hours. Of course, to Jenna, even dialling his number had felt like hours. She had been forced to put her phone on speaker and step away because she knew if she had it in her hand she would have ended the call the second she had pressed dial. The dial code had sounded 5 times before Matt picked up and each time Jenna had breathed a shaky sigh of relief knowing that if he didn't pick up she could postpone this inevitable phone call for hours. After 5 sounds though he had picked up. A pause, a crackle on the line, then an apprehensive "Jenna?" and suddenly everything was so much harder.

She had planned out exactly what she was going to say. A polite request for his silence, even if Stephen must be told. She had planned for their phone call to be short and to the point but at his mention of her name all of her planning had burnt away and those carefully picked words had scattered from her subconscious.

He had ruined it all, by apologising. After she had been unable to reply to her name he had taken her silence as anger and so had launched into a monologue rambling on about how sorry he was and how he thought he was doing the right thing and if she hated him forever he understood but he just couldn't stand by. It was only then she had remembered she was, and had full right to, be angry with him. So she did what she did best, she played the role. Because at the end of the day, Matt had handed her a get out clause, her 'anger' meant avoidance of Matt would be justifiable when in reality the truth was much harder to face up to. It was far easier to pretend she was angry with Matt than to face up to the truth, that she had forgiven him that very first night she had laid in hospital and if she was truly honest the second she felt his hand gripping hers and had realised for the first time, in a long, long time, she hadn't been alone. She only had to get through one more day of filming, sure there were photo shoots and promotional interviews but they would be easier she was sure. One more day of filming and it was over.

So she had gone along with Matt, listened to his apologies, tried to pretend it didn't break her heart and asked for his silence. He had seemed almost offended she would even need to ask and again she had played the anger card, stating to him that the last time she had expected his trust he had shattered it. He had gone silent then and for a second she thought he'd hung up and her heart had skipped a beat. Then he had apologised once more, a single word "Sorry" that had said so much more. It had said 'I am sorry I hurt you but I would do it again in a heartbeat' and it had made her stomach drop and her heart rise in her throat. She had ended the call by taking advantage of his grovelling and requested his help in talking to Stephen. He had immediately agreed and had informed her, by text, two hours later that she didn't need to return to filming for a further two weeks, more if she wanted. She had gone to say she didn't need that long but had eventually decided it wasn't worth the agro. Besides, she had reasoned, she had another two weeks to decide how she was going to get through that final day of filming.

They had ended the call, curtly and politely, although more on Jenna's side. She had after Matt had promised his help, thanked him, informed him that was all and she would see him in two weeks.

Then she had reached for the end call button but had paused, a tiny spark hidden inside of her demanding to hear his response. He had paused and she had heard him inhale before she'd heard him speak once more. Shaky and unsure.

"Jenna I –"

Then she had hung up.

The past two weeks had been hell, she should have been pleased, she finally was rid of Jake and yet some dark side of her refused to let her look on the positive side, even for a second. She had spent two weeks with little to do once the housework and press had been handled and had done far too much dwelling, trying to put off the obvious time where she would have to address the fact that she had to act out a soft, potent and heartbreakingly sad goodbye scene with Matt and she knew she would have to keep it together, for this wasn't just the Doctor and Clara's goodbye, it was her and Matt's too and she couldn't, even for a second let him see how much he'd got to her, how she couldn't possibly ever hate him. She couldn't admit defeat.

So she lay, unsleeping, in her bed with only the night between her and her return to work. With one last day of filming looming. One last scene to film, the hardest one of them all. She had had some horrible days, some days where she had sunk to the pit of darkness and felt nothing but empty promises between her and the end, days when she had felt there was no way to come back. But she'd always come back, that's what she did, what she'd always done. Always plastered a smile on her face, always covered the bruises with make-up and always breezed into work. She'd had some really hard days in the past, that was definite, yet she couldn't shake the nagging feeling that the hardest was yet to come.


	7. Chapter 7

Matt was worried, worried about Jenna. It seemed to him impossible that for someone to go from so vulnerable, hospitalised, to then be able to discharge herself and return to work only two weeks after suffering from a panic attack so bad it rendered them unconscious. But that was Jenna, she was impossible, his impossible girl. He smiled ruefully at the irony.

In his desperation he had voiced his concerns to Richard, swallowing his pride and giving in, he had wanted to know if when with him Jenna had struggled like this but Richard has snubbed him. Well, snubbed him would be an exaggeration, but Richard had not seemed overly concerned when Matt had phoned him during Jenna's first week off. "Mate.." He'd said almost patronisingly and it had set Matt's teeth on edge, "I wouldn't worry it's just a panic attack, people get them all the time". Matt had wanted to reach through the phone and punch Richard at his apparent indifference. They had been together only 5 months ago and as far as he knew the break-up was amicable, it struck Matt then their relationship may have deteriorated long before Jenna could admit it. Richard must have sensed Matt's distress though because his tone had softened briefly and he had offered a small piece of advice, 'she always considers herself to be alone, always. Let her know she's not'. Matt had felt his heart tug at this and was suddenly filled with a deep sadness and it was more to reassure himself than Richard when he had told him to not worry, 'I'll look after her'. He didn't know what he had expected from Richard, thanks maybe, some acknowledgment perhaps but Richard had simply laughed, coldly, and asked him why because as he had put it so bluntly,  
'It's not like your her boyfriend is it. We ended and she didn't want you then. Now she's 'called it time' with her new bloke and guess what? She still doesn't want you does she Matt?'  
Matt had hung up then, although not before colourfully telling Richard exactly what he thought of him.

It had hurt though and Matt wondered if his longing for Jenna was so obvious, if Richard, who he hadn't seen for months and didn't actually plan on seeing again come to think of it, could see through him then surely their team at Doctor Who could. That was the last thing Jenna needed, a media scandal about him only weeks after things had ended with Jake. It would break her, if she wasn't already broken.

Their last day of filming was today and Matt couldn't help but feel a spark of excitement through the dread that filled his heart. She had that effect on him and the anticipation of seeing her, filming with her, even for a final day set something alight in him. He knew it wouldn't be their last day together, there was panels to do, the 50th anniversary celebration and photoshoots yet he always felt these times were crowded by other people and when Jenna had a camera pointed at her she changed a little, became more reserved, her smiles just a little superficial. It wasn't noticeable to others but Matt saw it, saw through her. When they were filming she wasn't Jenna, she was Clara and she played the role perfectly. He leaked himself into every role he played, he couldn't help it, yet Jenna was Jenna and Clara was Clara. There were similarities though, her teasing, her quick fire responses that Matt had missed so much. Her giggle, what he would do to hear this giggle now. He thought of the hours they would spend together between filming, laughing in her trailer, her wacky little trailer bursting with her personality, he would miss that so much. Suddenly he was angry, angry that their last days together had to be tainted by the rift that had opened between them, he knew that really, they were unlikely to film together again and so he was determined to not let her avoid him today like she'd done in their final three weeks of filming. That started with getting there before her.

* * *

The plan had been to stay low, stay undetectable, get through this day with a façade of the brightest yet ultimately fakest smiles she could bear to muster. Of course he would ruin that plan, like he had singlehandedly ruined every plan she'd made coming into Doctor Who and she was yet to figure out whether that was a good thing or not. He'd ruined today's plan by arriving before her, she'd tried to arrive early like she'd had in the weeks prior to today, to avoid him but of course he'd known she'd try and do that, he always knew. That said she hadn't exactly arrived at the crack of dawn and a small part of her gives into the truth, that she had delayed her leaving of her flat this morning, stopped for an unnecessary coffee that she had barely touched, dragged her feet out of the car when she'd finally arrived, all with the tiny spark of hope that he'd arrive before her and make everything ok. There was no way she would admit that to herself, that she yearned for his company, yet subconsciously she was doing all she could to achieve it.

It was barely a shock to her when she saw him waiting for her. Emotion streaked through her, fear, doubt, panic, anger even, yet hidden beneath these negative feelings was the determined conflicting emotion of hope and the potential of hope, something she had barricaded from her heart made her momentarily forget her façade and forget her situation and with her distraction he closed the gap between them. In one stride, two, he was beside her and she was painfully aware of everything that could have been and everything that wasn't flickering between them. Then he was holding her, hugging her, it was just a greeting but it was so much more, to both of them. He was testing the boundaries, testing her and she suddenly remembered she was supposed to be angry with him. She almost laughed as the realisation hit her, the realisation that that was how quickly she had forgiven him, she hadn't even remembered her supposed anger. Starting slightly she pulled back from his embrace, reminding herself of the façade he was threatening to crumble and she had to tear her eyes from his face when she saw him visibly wince, she knew if she didn't she wouldn't be able to stop herself from throwing herself back into his waiting arms. That wouldn't exactly score her points in the whole 'I am extremely angry at you' situation. She knows that Matt is unhappy with the boundaries she has clearly attempted to set because as she pulled away from his hold she sensed him bristle and she expected this wouldn't be the last of his persistence. Of course, she was entirely right.

* * *

He had been prepared for her entrance, had been poised for her arrival. He had watched as she had firmly shut her car door and marched towards the studios, he had however not failed to notice the look that flashed across her face as she approached the building. She was a good actress, he was sure of that, yet not even she could disguise the look of unprecedented horror that had flashed across her face at the prospect of entering the studios, or more to the point, of seeing him. It was that more than anything else that had driven him to engulf her in his arms the second she entered the building, giving her little more than a couple of seconds to acknowledge his presence before he wrapped his body around her. It was the look of horror on her face, mixed with the fear and uncertainty at what this day would hold for her that had made him to do, he just wanted to show her, tell her, she wasn't alone, that it was going to be ok.

At the same time of course he was testing her, testing what reaction his embrace would spark, hoping, praying, that the anger, the resentment she had shown at the hospital had faded and she could see past what he had done, what he had had to do. For a second she melted into his arms and he felt at home as she nestled her body into his and for a second he truly believed it was going to be ok. Then her walls came piling up again and she broke from his embrace and stepped potently away from him, it was one tiny step yet it opened up a vast canyon between them and he couldn't help but bristle as he realised it was not over, of course it wasn't over.

She may be happy with ignorance and for her pretending the last month hadn't happened was ok, was the way forward. For him it was not. He had to end this, this cavity of 'something' between them that buzzed and swarmed with all the potential of what may have happened and what never happened, fuelled by her anger and her fear and her confusion and her loneliness. Because he could not live like this anymore, he had worn himself ragged with endless nights lying in bed, worrying, theorising, praying for morning because at least then he would have an excuse to contact her, check she's ok. He needed clarity, answers, and ultimately she was refusing to give them him and choosing ignore his pleas. It may be that she wanted nothing to do with him after they had finished filming and he was fine with that. No, of course he wasn't fine with that, but then it would be over, finished and he could start pick up the pieces of his broken heart. Her anger at his action may be too much for her, the shattering of her trust may be something he could never redeem but if so he wanted, no he needed, to know. At the moment they were in limbo, trapped like flies waiting for the other to make the first move. That would never come from Jenna, he was positive of it, her pride would deny her that. He would have to take the first step into the unknown, brave the darkness.  
This was not over yet.  
This was far, far from over.


	8. Chapter 8

**Hi guys! I am so sorry for the long wait; Exams and stuff so to make up for this this chapter is my longest one yet. I'm so glad to have chapter 8 up and to tell you this - _minor smut warning_ - just very minor though, sorry, got to wait! Please tell me what you think because it's reviews that keep me going and I am still contemplating where to go with this! Thanks to all my lovely reviewers and If you'd like me to review your story just tell me! Over and out!**

* * *

He followed her to her trailer, barely letting her leave his sight for a second, he refused to let her slip from him grasp once more because he knew how she worked. The second his attention wavered she would slip away, find meaningless conversation with a crew member, sneak into hair and make-up early or maybe suddenly develop an interest in cameras. He had to keep his sight set on her, eyes locked on the back of the waves of her shiny hair as she weaved herself through the swarm of crew members buzzing around, the excitement of the last day was rife and everyone was chatting eagerly. A wave of sadness washed over him as he registered once more, this really was his last day of filming. His very last day as the Doctor, the very last day he would rock up, slip on a bow-tie and immerse himself in the amazing world that was Doctor Who. Soon there would be a new Doctor, he'd met Peter Capaldi and he knew he'd do an amazing job it was with a surge of bitterness he contemplated handing over the role. Leaving Doctor Who, of course, meant leaving Jenna.

He hears himself agreeing to a party later, feels the muscles in his cheeks tense as he smiles at a camera man, waves at a make-up artist. Yet his eyes do not leave Jenna. Whether she knows he is following her on not, it's irrelevant. They leave the studio and she walks out to the trailer park, hurriedly as if the crowds of people are scaring her almost. She makes her way to her trailer and at the door she pauses, fingertips grazing the handle, as if she is contemplating turning to go find him. Then she shakes her head lightly and grasps the handle, closing the door behind her with a firm thump as she lets herself in. He follows, hand touching the handle as she did, as if it will encipher some connection between them, repair the breaking bond they once had.

He knocks, once, twice and for a second there is silence. No movement, no sounds just a bleak silence. He waits. Then he hears her voice, small and soft and unduly hesitant.

"Come in…"

So he does.

She is in the corner curled up an a massive arm chair, the one he has seen her sit in a hundred times yet now it seems bigger. Before she would sit on it, now it seems to engulf her, her huge black chair wrapped around her tiny frame as if she has shrunk.

He had been so sure, so confident but his demand for answers now seems petty, unjust. How can he even begin to be angry with her when all it takes it to look at her to properly look and her just to see how broken she is, how she is cracking into a million pieces all around him and no-one seems to care.

"Matt?"

Shit. He'd been staring.

He fumbles with his hand for a few seconds, as if his brain cannot comprehend his feelings and plays them into his actions. He wants to say a million things to her, let her feel everything he feels but he cannot bring himself to say the words he'd screamed in his head, told himself a thousand times but couldn't for the life of him seem to form.

Yet she was waiting, for an answer, a sign, looking at him eyes wide and head slightly bowed and it struck him that he'd just waltzed in and not actually said a single word to her. He blushed slightly, embarrassed and made a small coughing noise.

"Jenna I-"

She blinked, stood up and he saw the thick layers of her eyelashes fanning the air.

"I – " He gulped and in the small trailer the sound ricocheted around them."

"Are you okay Jenna?"

* * *

She looked surprised at his question, prepared to brush him off like she always did, a smile, a laugh and breezed and forced 'I'm fine', forcing people to move on, forget their concern.

Yet she couldn't, there was something about him that meant she just couldn't put up a façade. That was of course the whole reason they were in this mess, because she just couldn't say no to Matt Smith. She almost smiled.

"What do you think?"

It was all he needed, all the invitation he needed and then he was holding her once more. The shred of vulnerability she had shown was his excuse to engulf her in his arms again, breath in the smell of her, feel the silk of her body pressed against him once more. It filled him with a warmth he couldn't decipher, couldn't understand, yet had no desire to. He was content in just holding her, protecting her for somehow he knew this time she wouldn't pull away.

* * *

She just couldn't pull away from him. She willed herself to, to wrench herself from his grasp, to resurrect the boundaries she had tried to set in the studio before, the boundaries that were falling to pieces every second she stayed in his arms but she couldn't, she wouldn't. It was the same spark of resilience that had dragged her arrival at the studio, the same enigma of hope that had made her say yes to Matt Smith barely a month ago, agreed to spend the night at his, talking, laughing, drinking, sharing secrets, sharing dreams. It was that same pearl of mystery that she held on to now, held onto him like he was the only thing in the world that could save her from herself. Her dependency was blatantly obvious but for once she barely cared, barely flinched, just held onto him as he murmured into her hair, words she was scarcely listening to yet comforted her in every way possible.

It seemed like an age had passed when she gently prised herself from his grip.

"I'm so, so sorry Jenna." His voice choked and he looked down, unable to meet her gaze.

Briefly she entertained the idea of continuing her pretence of anger, of annoyance but the whole idea died inside of her the second she looked at him, saw the pain on his face and she was suddenly filled with an overwhelming sense of guilt. She'd forgotten, if she was honest, that men weren't all like Jake. Four months together and he had made her forget that people could be good to her, help her. She had been so used to getting on with it herself that she had forgotten how it felt to be helped, to be dependant, for someone else to become her necessity. And it felt warm. Richard was Richard, with him she had been happy, contented but she had never wholly and completely needed him like she needed Matt – without Richard she had never experience the twisting pain when he wasn't by her side, the numbing sickness that followed on days without him, never missed him so much that it physically hurt and that scared her. What scared her even more was that she could see it on Matt's face, could see that his apology towards her was genuinely ripping him apart, could see his pain in his shaky breaths. It was time for the truth.

"Matt you have nothing to be sorry for." It was raw, humble and it was half of the truth she was trying to avoid. "Nothing."

"But Jenna don't you see?" His confusion was aired on his face, the way his feelings always were, always would be.

"Don't you see? Don't you understand? I've been a shit friend Jenna. You've been going through all this, all this, I don't know, this and I haven't been there for you Jenna." His voice broke, cracked, his emotion prickling through his words as he fumbled.

"Ever since you told me, I haven't been able to cope Jenna, knowing what he did to you, what happened. I wanted to hurt him, really hurt him like he hurt you but I didn't know how and so I was selfish Jenna, God I was so selfish. I went to the police because it was the only way I could think of to actually properly hurt him. I'm so sorry." His voice wilted off and she stared, incredulous.

She didn't know what to say to him, how to start to tell him how she felt, how she'd always felt.

So she didn't. She wanted to tell him that he was the only thing that made anything have any sense. She wanted to tell him that when she was with him it became easier, just for a few minutes it was easier. She wanted to tell him a million things but as they swarmed in her mind she thought how trivial it all was. What would he say? What would he do? How could she possibly begin to try and explain something she barely understood herself?

"Jenna?"

He stared at her, expectantly waiting for an answer of sorts, an answer she couldn't give him. She watched as the hope that had built up in his eyes seemed to fade and she had to turn her head away from his, stare some place other than his eyes. A second longer staring into those green orbs, flecked and jewelled with gold and browns and deeper than she could possibly fathom and she'd split, breakdown.

* * *

"Jenna?"

She turned her face away, a sudden boring interest in a lamp situated in the far corner of her trailer.

"Jenna?" He raised his voice tentatively.

She turned her face further away, as if she couldn't bare to look at him and suddenly the anger that had overwhelmed him before reared inside of him.

"Jenna for God's sake will you look at me?"

She whipped around, stung by his raised tones and met his eyes, suddenly bold and he faltered for a second.

"What is it Matt?" He could hear he'd surprised her, annoyed her but he knew if he let this go now he might not get another chance. He wasn't about to take chances on Jenna-Louise Coleman.

"I don't know Jenna, can you speak now? Can you respond? Or are you just going to continue ignoring me?"

He watched as anger flared in her face and secretly he revelled in it, revelled in the notion he could draw emotion from her. He was too used to seeing her like a doll, emotionless and cold and he was angry himself, fuelled by pent up tension. He was only barely conscious of their surroundings, their voices leaving them as a harsh whispers.

"Really Matt? Really? You're all up on your high horse because for once someone won't give you their utter attention. Maybe they were a little, how do I put this, preoccupied?"

Her words stung him, deflated him for a second, just a second though.

"Jenna I've tried. I've tried so hard to speak to you. I've followed you all around set, I've offered you breakfast, lunch, dinner. I've invited you round God knows how many times and you've been ignoring me, brushing me off, giving me the cold shoulder ever since, ever since -"

"Ever since what Matt?"

He faltered, unable to continue and she quickly pounced on his second of vulnerability.

"Ever since I gave in and made the stupid alcohol fuelled decision of trusting you with something I could barely trust me self with and you took all of three weeks to break my trust?"

Now he knew what to say. He knew he wasn't being entirely fair but now he had started he could stop, it was like someone had opened the floodgates to his emotions locked away.

"Yeah Jenna, ever since you told me something that broke me inside, something that tore me to pieces, kept me awake night after night."

He threw his hands in the air gesticulating wildly.

"And you wouldn't even talk about it. You opened up to me and it was heartbreaking but all the same, you opened up to me and then just like that you shut me off. Refused to acknowledge my presence, let alone actually speak to me. And I, I had to lie awake at night knowing you where with him wondering what he doing to you, hating myself for not being able to do anything to help. That's why I did it Jenna, that's why I told the police. Because every night I went to bed, allowing it to happen, allowing that to happen, I was nearly as bad myself."

"No."

He stopped all movement, watching her lips as the word dropped off them. Yet he was unable to process it's meaning, it stumped him. His confusion must have shown in his face because she took a small step closer.

"No, you will never be as bad as him, will never be him. You are the kindest, most decent man I have met Matt Smith. Don't you ever compare yourself to him. Ever."

And then she smiled, softly. Gazing up at him with those big brown eyes and it took every ounce of his self control, every drop of his resistance not to kiss her. Not to grasp her by her cheeks and press his lips to hers and pull her body close to his and never let her go.

She'd done that thing again, that he only she could manage to do to him. Where she took everything he wanted to say, everything he had planned and threw it away. Collapsing the structures of his self control, bulldozing over his feelings. The way only she could. He was lost for words again and he could tell he was going to lose her focus, her attention. Like presenting a gift she had offered him a chance, a moment to excel his love, and who was he to look a gift horse in the mouth?

"Jenna..." He began.

* * *

Her name rolled over his tongue and somehow he made her name sound like something beautiful, precious, something he daren't touch for worry of damaging it. She wondered how close that was to the truth. She drank in his aura, the essence that was he being as she looked at him. His appearance was shabby yet well put together yet it was so endearing to her she could barely tear her eyes from him. He was so different from the other men she had dated, with their sharp suits and sharp tongues. He had a childlike demeanour she never fully understood yet he undoubtedly had the ability to make her fall in peals of laughter even on the darkest days when she had to fight to leave her bed.

She watched as he took a deep breath and didn't miss the tiny tremble in his fingers as he pushed a hand almost tentatively over his sheared head and it made her breath catch in her throat but she didn't look away for a second, eyes locked onto his.

* * *

Suddenly where words had failed him before, they flooded him, drowned him and as their previous conversation, their argument of sorts washed over him so did an intense guilt. Who was he to barrage her? He hadn't gone through what she had. He felt a burning need to apologise, to redeem himself, even though it occurred to him that bridge may be burnt.

"Jenna, I want you know that - " He paused for a second, he could hear his voice shaking and he coughed slightly, steadying himself.

"Shit, Jenna I need to you know that I am sorry. What I did, I did because there was no other way. That man, that monster, you couldn't see it Jenna but he was destroying you. I could see it, feel it." He ran a hand over his head once more, nervously.  
"You were slowly crumbling and I lie awake at night wondering why I didn't spot it sooner Jenna because I could have, I should have. I should have been more attentive, listened more. I don't know, maybe I wanted to give you space because you had a boyfriend, even though I could stand him and I assure you that is not just from the benefit of hindsight. Anyway the point is I'm sorry, for every second of hurt I caused you and I know I can't make up for it with words but let me try Jenna? Please I- "

That's when he noticed the tears streaming down her face.

He encompassed her in his arms lifting her effortlessly and carrying her to the small sofa when he lay her on his chest, ignoring the proximity of their bodies, the way they must appear. Slowly he rubbed tiny circles in the small of her back as her tears turned to sobs and her sobs to wails. And when she was done crying he was silent, eyes locked onto the back of her head. An indefinite amount of time passed before either of them moved before then he felt the fingers of her right hand curl around his.

Then she sat up, pushing tears from her face almost ashamedly and whispered apologies.

"It's all coming to an end isn't it Matt?" Her voice was quiet, barely above as whisper, raspy from the tears.

"No." He shook his head and the absolute determination in his voice rocked the trailer walls.

"No Jenna I will always be here for you, we will always be friends."

"Friends." She echoed him, almost wistfully and reached to wipe tears from her eyes once more.

He pulled her hand from her face, staring at its dainty form, at her tiny fingers adorned by a multitude of rings. He slowly traced the pattern of the lines that etched her palm and then turned her hand over and brought it to his lips, placing a soft chasté kiss on the back of it.

And if she felt the electric current that surged through their skin as his lips glanced her skin she said nothing. And if she noticed they way his lips lingered over her hand for just a second too long she didn't show it. Instead she pulled her hand away to rest it on his soft short hair, using one finger to trace the contours of his jaw as her hand trickled down his face.

The gesture was so intimate, so special, that it completely defied the the detrimental word that defined them,_ friends_.

He could hold it in him no longer, his resolve cracked.

Taking advantage of their position; her hand resting on his jaw, he mirrored her. Bringing a hand slowly softly, up her arm, tracing her collar bone and then cupping her soft cheek. She shivered at his touch subconsciously and he did not miss it, in fact it spurred him on. His other arm was free and he wrapped it firmly around her waist, drawing her towards him. He half expected her to pull away but she was frozen at his touch. Then he looked at her, properly looked at her. At the soft curves of her cheek that gave way to her nose, that amazing, tiny little nose that filled him with something inexplainable. At the pools of her chocolate eyes, still red and slightly puffy from crying, the eyes that gripped him like a vice when he met them. His gaze flitted to a tear-drop suspended on her cheek and fought the urge to kiss it away, to kiss away her pain. Finally his eyes rested on her lips and their entity. Soft, plump and slightly swollen from her tears they were enticing him, begging him. He felt himself draw closer to her so that there was inches between their faces. Then inches turned to centimetres and in turn to millimetres and then there was nothing between them. Not that cavity that had opened up three weeks ago, not the lost promises and broken trust, not the tension that had been building between them ever since he had first clapped eyes on her in the companion auditions, the tension that had magnified every minute they had spent alone together.

Just their lips touching as the whole world tumbled down.

Softly he grazed his lips to hers, lingering only for a second before he pulled away.

For a second she was still, so still he wondering if he had done the wrong thing and an ugly monster of doubt began to creep into his mind, leering him.

Then she smiled, a smile so soft, so small but so amazingly real it made his heart swell in his chest and his words catch in his throat.

And then the hand, that hadn't left his jaw pulled him closer and satisfaction crashed through him as their lips collided once more. This kiss was different, where the other had been gentle, loving, this was full and deeper and told him the million words she'd been trying to say.

* * *

Every lost word, every forgotten love note, every might they had laid in bed at night, one thinking of a boy alone, the other of a girl, trapped. Every time they had ached to tell the truth but had been stopped by hesitancy, by timidness, by caution.

Everything poured into their kiss.

As his lips moved against hers she wondered if she was dreaming. Not because it felt unreal or strange. Only because the only times she had ever felt this happy was when she was dreaming in bed, her troubles forgotten momentarily. Then his tongue slipped into her mouth and she was pulled back to reality faster than than she though possible.

Their kiss had changed again, where it was emotional it was now hungry - needy - and she was filled suddenly with a intense lust, an intense desire. She broke away momentarily, overwhelmed, gasping before he pushed her back so she was lying on her back on the sofa and supporting himself with one arm lowered his body onto hers as their lips met again.

Her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling her body to his and she bit down softly on his lower lip, eliciting a low moan from his mouth into hers which sent shock waves shooting up her spine.

It was then she heard the knocking.

She sat up, softly pushing him from her, ignoring his growl of protest and listened.

The knocking sound was followed by a voice, curt and sharp.

"Jenna you're needed in costume. Moffat's eager to get filming started, it being Matt's last day."

She groaned softly.

"I'm coming." She called to the voice, ignoring Matt's fingers grazing her thighs, or trying to ignore them.  
She spun around, taking him by surprise and whispered softly, grazing his ear, not failing to notice the tremble that racked his body.

"Gotta go Matty"

He smiled at her pet name, which he hadn't heard for so long, wholly and heartily and it was infectious, her own features breaking into a grin.

"Which I'm guessing means I am too."

"I'm guessing you're guessing right."

He laughed and she pulled him up the door, reluctantly before dropping his hand. As his questioning gaze she simply offered,  
"Well who knows what people might think?"

They laughed together, troubles forgotten, healed by a kiss and then departed the trailer to head towards set.

* * *

There was something different about Jenna, Stephen mused as he watched Matt and Jenna act out the Doctor's final scenes. It couldn't be Matt's last day that had brought her change in nature, that would be absurd for the simple reason she looked alive and he knew they got on well so for the life of him he couldn't understand why today of all days she was so different. In the past few weeks she had been downtrodden, off hand and it had worried Stephen because she had been acting unusually un-Clara like, her bouncy spirit had been alive on set only. When the cameras had stopped rolling he'd watched as she'd retreated into a shell, of sorts, darkened. Yet today she was back to herself, her eyes alight with something he couldn't understand. He was grateful though for whatever it was. Something, someone had brought back Jenna-Louise Coleman, brought back his Clara and he wasn't complaining although he was curious to meet the mystery source of her sudden breeziness.

* * *

Not even he could have know their days were numbered.


End file.
